
“What on earth,” she inquired of the artist standing nearby, “is that?”
He smiled condescendingly. “That, my dear lady, is supposed to be a mother and her child.”
“Well, then,” snapped the little old lady, “why isn’t it?”

“What on earth,” she inquired of the artist standing nearby, “is that?”
He smiled condescendingly. “That, my dear lady, is supposed to be a mother and her child.”
“Well, then,” snapped the little old lady, “why isn’t it?”